


First of a Thousand

by RileyC



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Angst, Crime scene aftermath, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyC/pseuds/RileyC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Gordon is the first officer on the scene and the only one who can reach 8-year-old Bruce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First of a Thousand

**Author's Note:**

> Another one for the LiveJournal challenge comm, ComicDrabbles.

“Hey.” Jim Gordon kneels on the cracked, gritty pavement, every movement quiet and careful. The boy’s been through enough tonight. But he’s been crouched there by the bodies since Jim and his partner arrived on the scene, and they really do need to secure the crime scene. “You can let go now,” he says and watches the boy shake his head, refusing, fingers gripping his father’s hand even tighter.  
  
Jim sighs, glances around at his colleagues, all of them far less patient and ready to just yank the boy away from his parents. There’s no confirmation yet but Jim’s seen their pictures in the paper, Dr. Thomas Wayne, the city’s biggest benefactor, and his wife, Martha; he remembers the boy’s name, too. “You’re Bruce, aren’t you?” he asks.  
  
Haunted blue eyes glance at him, then away again. Jim thinks it will be a long time before he forgets those eyes. “Uh-huh,” the boy says, so soft Jim almost misses it.  
  
“I’m Jim. I’m sorry, Bruce,” he says, as gentle as possible, “but we have to take care of your parents now.”  
  
The boy bites his lip and shakes his head, and Jim’s heart breaks just a little. This is the part of his job he really hates. He doesn’t know how the survivors ever pick up the pieces and go on. “Bruce,” he reaches over to touch the boy’s hands, “I’m sorry but you can’t stay here. They wouldn’t want you to.”  
  
There’s no fierce denial but the boy holds on even tighter. Jim sighs, knowing there’s no other way and tries not to hate himself too much as he gets a firms grip on the boys hands and firmly pries each small finger away.  
  
He expects those fingers to ball up into fists and strike out at him; for the boy to kick and struggle, or at least cry. That will all come in time, Jim knows, when the shock wears off. He hopes the boy has someone to take care of him, to see him through everything that lies ahead. Something tells Jim it’s going to be a rough journey.


End file.
